There Is Happiness In This Place After All
by FiddlingCrispo
Summary: Having escaped the soldiers' raids, Shmuel managed to hide a pen and a tattered notebook under his bunk and thus left a series of entries about his covert friendship with Bruno. Shmuel's PoV.


**Summary: **

Having escaped the soldiers' raids, Shmuel managed to hide a pen and a tattered notebook under his bunk and thus left a series of entries about his covert friendship with Bruno, son of the Kommandant.

**Disclaimer:**

All rights go to Mr John Boyne; I own nothing of it.

* * *

**There Is Happiness In This Place After All **

**Shmuel's Diary **

*******

**2 September 1943**

**The New Term Should Have Started**

Today we woke to the cries of '_arbeit_' as usual, and I went out to help build the new huts. I didn't want to work all day without company, but Josef had fallen ill, and papa was sent to another corner of the camp. I was again left alone and had to learn to look after myself.

When I was carrying lumbers, a big boy I used to steel clear of sidled to me and told me it is 2nd September today. I nearly cried out when I heard it because it is the first day of school, and it was appalling that I had forgotten all about it.

One year ago, on the same day, I was still able to attend school and study and play with all my friends. But then suddenly, everything seemed to be snatched away from me. Some of my friends turned their backs on me, and some pummelled me even if I did nothing wrong.

And then one day in early October, I went home to find mama packing the family belongings and telling Josef and me that we were going to be 'relocated'.

I assumed that had something to do with moving into a new house, though I failed to see how we could afford one now that mama and papa had already had all their valuables 'handed in' to back up the war.

Perhaps other families in our community were also having difficulty affording a house all by themselves, so that was why the soldiers built for us a small town with an arched ramp and we had to share one flat with many people at the same time.

Anyway, when I lived there I couldn't go to school to learn my lessons; in fact, I couldn't go anywhere because the soldiers would get unhappy about that and bully me. I was stuck there all alone and couldn't make new friends because children my age all looked horribly depressed or rebellious.

And my old friends! I don't understand why they suddenly hated me so much. It really hurts when I was excluded from school and they laughed and shouted at me after that. I still see them as my friends but I hope they'll return to their old selves and get friendly if I could see them again. I could tell them I miss school and miss them all the time even if they went against me so abruptly and unreasonably.

And then we left the community and boarded the train to this camp, and I've been here for almost one year now. Things change little; I still have to work and still cannot go to school even though it's the first day of a new semester.

I wish no one had reminded me of this special day so that I might not recall my old life in Krakow and get upset. 'O_blivion is remedy_'. A rabbi told me this and I should have kept it in mind.

*******

**4 September 1943 **

**Light is on the other side of the fence**

Today I met a friend. Yes, I wasn't dreaming. Bruno is a friend and I can tell.

It all commenced because of his exploring. He had been doing it for almost two hours without finding anything at all, and then he saw me when I was sitting alone at a far corner of the camp. We said hello to each other and then he sat down crossing his legs like I did so that we could face each other properly.

He wears tidy clothes, speaks German and comes from Germany, which makes me wonder if he has something to do with those intimidating soldiers. But despite his identity and everything, he is in essence a good-natured boy and seems ignorant of the many untellable horrors that take place in here.

We then drifted into talk, and he told me how he dislikes this place and how he misses Berlin. He looked really sad when he talked about these, though I myself couldn't find proper words to cheer him up since my life here at Out-With is no better.

Then he asked me why there are so many of us wearing identical striped pyjamas and living on this side of the fence. I couldn't help but recount my own old life in Krakow and how things had changed and ended up like this. Strangely enough, it was less painful to talk about those things with a friend who would listen patiently and who had suffered similar adversities.

Thanks to Bruno, I felt much better after that. His very being is a comforting therapy to me, and I hope I'm like the same toward him so that through our chats he can feel happy again as if he were back leading his old life in Berlin.

*******

**15 December 1943**

**Friends**

God bless my friend Bruno. For nearly three months he's been arriving at the fence every afternoon and talking with me. He even brings me food sometimes, which is a life-saving treat even if it's only bits of bread or cheese.

Today when I was eating he asked about an old man who peels vegetables and serves dinner at his house; I scrunched up my brain, but try as I might I still had no clue which 'Pavel' my friend alluded to since there were dozens of Pavels here and I knew very few of them.

I suppose Bruno is still under a false impression that I live in a farm sort of thing where stocks outnumber farmers so I must know each of the men's names and persons. I don't feel like correcting my friend though; I think it's not bad for him to preserve an illusion of life on my side because the truth is far too heinous to accept.

I don't want to scare the one and only friend of mine at Out-With. I like the broad smile on his face when he looks at me and talks with me; come to think of it, I haven't seen such a hearty carefree smile for years, and I feel it necessary to cherish it.

*******

**10 February 1944**

**I thought we have lost each other for good**

A lot of things happened during the preceding week.

Last Saturday was the Kommandant- Bruno's father's birthday. Lieutenant Kotler dashed into our barrack that afternoon and took me with him, decreeing that I was heading for the Kommandant's villa and was to do whatever they asked me to do.

I met the Kommandant's wife- Bruno's mother in their kitchen, and was given the task of polishing the tiny glasses with napkins and my tiny fingers. For several minutes I worked alone, and then- I couldn't believe it- Bruno entered the kitchen!

He looked both surprised and pleased to find me in his house, and withdrew food from the fridge to share with me. We were about to resume our daily chat when the fierce lieutenant stormed in and caught us talking on the spot.

Lieutenant Kotler is a terrible, terrible soldier! He knew I had been eating(surely he'd have me accused of it even if I didn't actually eat anything), and advanced on me looking as if he were going to shoot me. It was really frightening and I couldn't help telling the truth, which was an awful giveaway for Bruno and our covert friendship.

I knew I would pay for it; and sure enough, Bruno denied everything, saying he didn't even know me and being safely escorted away afterwards. Now I was sure that I'd be doomed, but I didn't blame Bruno. Few could keep undisturbed when it was Lieutenant Kotler interrogating. I just felt sad and forlorn because I was almost convinced that Bruno wouldn't dare come to the fence and talk with me any more, what with people on his side being so scary and unkind even to him, son of their Kommandant.

_-later, back in the camp_

The soldiers, Lieutenant Kotler as their leader, spat 'a rat that steals' in my face, and then kicked me, pummelled me, stabbed me with the long barrels of their shotguns. If life means suffering such terrible punishment, death is undoubtedly more preferable! But I didn't have the fortune to die. Papa smuggled me back to the barracks and saved me. I lay abed for days before I came around and was able to move a muscle. When I got slightly better, I escaped the eyes of the fellow Jews and soldiers so that I could stagger to that far corner of the camp. It wasn't that I expected to see Bruno again; I just wanted to sit there, for that was where I had used to slack on my own, and where I used to be blessed with a friend who was on the other side of the fence.

That afternoon, however, I found myself face to face with my friend again. No, I wasn't dreaming. As I sat there staring at the dust beneath me, I heard hurried footsteps and a familiar voice calling my name. Bruno arrived at the other side of the fence, sat there and was trying to talk me around, trying to apologise for his denial of our covert friendship.

I listened to every word he uttered, but couldn't bring myself to look up. What if it was a sheer delusion since I had been missing him so terribly? What on earth had I done, to be blessed with a friend who, after so much bitterness, would still risk everything to come to me and resume our relationship?

'I'm really, really sorry, Shmuel. I've never let a friend down like that before. Say you'll forgive me.' Bruno's voice was saying. I couldn't stand it any longer. Delusion or not, I couldn't stand myself taking in every syllable of his sincerity without a slimmest percentage of reciprocation. I looked up, and there was none other than my friend Bruno, sitting cross-legged on the ground on the other side of the fence.

I reached out; I had my hand stretched through the fence to await his. We shook hands. We were still friends.

'It's all right.'

And all my wounds did not seem to pain me any more.

*******

**4 August 1944**

**The haircut**

Today Bruno has a hilarious haircut! Well, I pick the word 'hilarious' since it's really odd and funny to see Bruno having a tonsure like mine when he should belong to his side of the fence where shaving isn't compulsory. Bruno looked positively depressed when I laughed about that, but laughing as I was, I didn't mean to bemock him. In fact I like it that we now have one more thing in common, although Bruno is by no means as pale and emaciated as boys on my side of the fence, most of whom had gone on marches a long time ago and whose whereabouts I still cannot quite figure out till this day.

*******

**20 October 1944**

**Frets**

I have an unpleasant feeling about things going on here at Out-With. People are constantly going on 'marches', and since none of them ever come back there are other people filling in the barracks they leave behind. Grandpa and Josef had their march two months ago, and I had learnt not to fret over their absence too much since I still had papa on my side.

But now, even papa is gone! He was ordered to go on work duties(thank God, not marches) with some other men, and I hadn't heard from any of them for three days. I'm beginning to feel worried now; is the working place really that far?

*******

**22 October 1944**

**The first and last adventure**

Fortune does not favour us. Today I told Bruno of papa's disappearance, never expecting that my friend also had bad news for me to gasp about. He was going to go back to Berlin the day after tomorrow, never returning to Out-With ever again like he did when his grandmother passed away and he had to leave for the funeral.

Both of us stayed very quiet for a moment, confined to our own and each other's low spirits. As for me, I felt an overwhelming urge to cry- I have lost my mama, my grandparents, my brother Josef and papa, and finally I'm on the brink of losing my only friend! I have done nothing wrong at all; what's the point in depriving me of those whom I hold dear?

Thankfully, Bruno gathered himself to break the nasty silence at last, trying his best to cheer me up when he suggested as a farewell souvenir that we are going to have our first and last adventure on my side of the fence tomorrow afternoon. He also promised to help me find papa; honestly, I'm not hopeful about it, but despite everything it sounds fairly great to have Bruno by my side touring the place I've been living in, even if it's not a really nice place to sightsee when Bruno has a much better house and a much happier life all to himself.

It didn't take long to have our plan mapped out. Both of us will be at this exact place tomorrow afternoon, and I'm to bring with me a set of striped pyjamas for Bruno(quote from him- '_A great explorer always wears the right costume_'), and he'll crawl underneath through the gap of the fence to join me, and we'll get going, searching for papa and enjoying our first and last adventure, our _farewell_ souvenir.

*******

**Epilogue**

(Based on the final scenes of the film)

The Kommandant lurched his way through the thick veil of merciless rain, not knowing what he was aiming for or why he was wandering about rows after rows of the now emptied barracks. The realisation of such an atrocious truth struck upon him, slashed at him, and through the heavy rain there emanated a faint, putrid odour of incinerated corpses which seemed to be assaulting the officer's nostrils, compelling him to accept the harrowing finality of what had probably became of Bruno, his son.

Unable to stand it any further and craving for some place to hide himself in, the devastated Kommandant tumbled sideways into a nearby barrack and fell headlong into an empty bunk. Boots sliding on the cold ground, his body slopped down in a heap against what was supposed to be one leg of the 'bed'. Strips of tattered hay and rags flopped down to his feet, among which some wrinkled and scattered paper could be seen.

_Did these Jews have leisure to keep diaries in this place?_

Wanting nothing more than to engage his mind in anything other than the catastrophe, the desperate Kommandant picked up with trembling fingers those scattered paper that bore an unripe, not-so-enchanting penmanship upon them.

...

_**22 October 1944**_

_**The first and last adventure**_

…

The Kommandant felt his body freeze with cold numbness.

He had found Shmuel's diary.

And he had found out about everything.

**END**

*****

**

* * *

  
**

**A/N:**

_A tiny glossary here-'arbeit' is the German word for 'labour'. By picking up this word, I intend to refer to the emblematic slogan 'Arbeit macht frei'(Work brings freedom) engraved on the front gate of Out-With._

_And given that I didn't have my copy of The Boy In The Striped Pyjamas at hand when I wrote this, I tried my best to recount those details of Bruno and Shmuel's every meeting so as to present them following the order of appearance as if in canon. Please do not flame if I omit or misinterpret anything. _:)

_And also, the 'accurate' dates of these entries are attributed to my guesswork. Mr Boyle has given vague hints about how time goes by at Out-With from Bruno's point of view, so all I have to do is put it into digits- still, please do not flame if it goes a bit imprecise. _:)

_And at last, thanks for your attention and for reading, and please leave your reviews._

_Thanks! _:)


End file.
